


The Way to a Man's Heart

by HYPERFocused



Series: Hyperfocused on Judaism [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, Cooking, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Jewish Holidays, Marriage Proposal, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-24
Updated: 2005-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-07 03:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1883199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HYPERFocused/pseuds/HYPERFocused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Way to a Man's Heart is through his Stomach.(and other places, but this isn't that kind of fic).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written, I think, for The Slash Advent calendar in 2004  
> A/N: [The Settlement Cookboo](http://digital.lib.msu.edu/projects/cookbooks/html/books/book_52.cfm)k is a real classic in American Jewish history.

There was nothing Blair Sandburg liked more than coming home to Jim. Even after almost ten years together – if you counted it by the day sense-troubled cop met "neo-hippie-witchdoctor-punk" (which Blair certainly did), or seven years, if you went by the date Blair actually went for it, saying "Repression sucks, man. I’m sick of it" and kissed him, it still felt new.

At the same time their relationship felt fresh and new to Blair, living in the loft with him had felt like home from the very first night. Despite all of Jim’s rules, Blair had felt a welcome he’d never known before. It was like he was the proverbial Wandering Jew, and living with Jim finally allowed to put down roots. He had bloomed under Jim’s care, and Jim had grown straight (so to speak) and strong with Blair’s support. Jim’s senses had him tangled up like kudzu. He’d needed a little weeding, which Blair was only too happy to provide.

They’d had some trouble at first, Blair seemed to find himself in the thick of it at every turn, and Jim acted like he’d done it on purpose. They’d both made serious sacrifices for each other. Blair had given up his livelihood and his life, for Jim. In both cases, Jim had given it back, and Blair found himself changed. He hoped it was for the better. Looking at the white strands in his still-short curls, he wondered where that Neo-hippie-witch-doctor-punk had gone. Probably the same place Stick-up-the-butt-in-too-much-pain-to-deal-with-those-pesky-emotions Jim had disappeared.

Jim’s butt certainly had no stick up it now, though with the way it moved in those form fitting jeans was giving Blair certain ideas on that account. So was the red trimmed apron Jim wore. Megan had given it to them as a house warming gift when they’d finished renovating the loft. They’d bought out their downstairs neighbors two years ago, turning their apartment into a library and a gym. Someday they might even build a playroom. He and Jim were talking about the possibility of adoption. They both loved kids, though they both also had doubts about their own ability to parent effectively. Neither had grown up with the best role models, though Blair knew no kid could have a more attentive dad than Jim would be. That could be a problem, too. The things that weren’t so pleasant about a baby – the smells and yells – would be even less tolerable to Jim and his senses.

But that wasn’t something Blair needed to worry about at the moment. He had the feeling whatever child came into their lives wouldn’t do so by the usual channels anyway. Nothing else had. For now he would be satisfied with the way things stood.

"Hey, Chief, pull up an apron." Jim turned aside from his work in the ktchen. His hands were sticky with goop, and there were potatoes and onions in various states of destruction surrounding him. He thoughtfully held them away from Blair as he leaned down to kiss him, instead of sinking them into his curls the way he usually did.

"Hi, Jim. What are you doing?" Blair waved his hand at the mess.

"What does it look like?"

"It looks like you’re getting in touch with your inner four year old."

Jim laughed. "And you’re supposed to be the Jew here. I’m making latkes. Naomi sent her recipe book." He indicated a yellowing tome on the table. The Settlement Cookbook. It was a classic in Jewish cooking, pretty much every Jewish home had one.

"Oh, man. This wasn’t Naomi’s, it was my grandmother’s. I remember she used to let me help her when I would visit." That had only happened a couple of times, when Naomi had had no one else to leave him with. Mostly she and her mother – Nana Essie, Blair had called her – had been estranged.

"Were you close?" Jim asked.

"I would have liked to be. I didn’t really get a chance to know her well."

"I’m sorry, Blair. But maybe you can learn a little about her in here. She’s got notes all over the margins." He wiped his hands off, and then gave it over to Blair.

"That’s so cool. I wonder why Naomi sent it now?" Blair rifled through the pages, finding notes in his grandmother’s immaculate hand. Some were recipes, but there were also a couple of articles about him. Accomplishments he’d made as a boy. His bar mitzvah announcement. A human interest story about his entrance to college at sixteen. Stuff he hadn’t even known she’d known about.

A particularly embarrassing photo of him at about nine – he’d looked seven -- wearing a patchwork pantsuit caught Jim’s eye. "I guess we’ve retired the Raggedy Andy look, huh, Chief?"

"Clothes don’t matter. They just cover the body, and the body protects the soul." Blair parroted back the words his mother used to say. He’d hated that outfit, and her homilies didn’t really help.

"I’m guessing Naomi taught you that when she sent you to school in mismatched socks and no coat."

"Ha ha, Jim. At least I learned to layer, early."

"You’re certainly an expert now."

"You’re not too shabby at taking them off." Blair grinned at him.

"Yeah, we’ll get to that as soon as I’m done with these." He indicated the growing pile of latkes he was placing in the heated oil.

"You never did tell me what brought on the urge to cook in the first place."

"Hanukkah passed us by, and I felt bad for making you miss it." They’d had a busy month.

"Actually, it’s pretty late this year. Right around Christmas, so we haven’t missed anything. And that still doesn’t answer my question."

"Well, consider this a practice run, then. And your mother gave me the idea." Jim sheepishly handed him a post-it note. "It was stuck to the cover, with an arrow pointing to the slogan." The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach was printed on the book. Naomi’s scrawled note said "In all my years, I’ve learned this is true. How about making an honest man of my son? Some of his favorites are in here, if you need to sweeten the deal."

"What the hell? Since when has Naomi gone for the traditional wedding thing?"

"I’d hardly call it traditional. We’re two men. But you know, it wouldn’t be unheard of…"

"Getting married? Don’t you think we’re already bonded? Spirit animals and all?"

"Well, yes. But maybe she’s got a point. A public ceremony might not be so bad. I think people have been expecting it for years."

Blair laughed. "Actually, I think most of them think we’ve been married since I moved in here, practically." He thought about it some more. "You know, it could be fun. We could throw in a little bit from all of the various ritual bondings I’ve studied." He was well into describing what a primitive tribe in Central Africa did when Jim interrupted him.

"Hold off there a minute, Chief. I was thinking more along the lines of friends, family, a couple of clergy… you could step on the glass… then a nice party and as long a honeymoon as we can get away with. No running around naked until after the ceremony."

"Spoilsport. Okay, I can deal with it." Blair got out plates and the apple sauce and sour cream to go with the latkes. "Since you’ve provided the sustenance, let’s start planning."

 

* * *

 

They announced it at the joint Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwaanza dinner Jim and Blair hosted a few days later. Jim tried out some of the recipes he’d found in the book Naomi sent, and Blair cajoled Jim’s dad into sending some of the Ellison family traditions as well.

Naomi and Steven and Jim’s father all showed up as well, and got along as well as in-laws with extremely different mind-sets could. They’d all mellowed in the past decade, which made for a more pleasant experience than either Jim or Blair had expected.

Simon offered them two weeks off in early spring for the honeymoon. Daryl thought he could arrange for them to borrow a cabin a med school colleague owned in Colorado, if they wanted to try their hands at skiing – something they hadn’t yet done together. And Steven promised use of the new club he’d just bought. All in all, it was shaping up to sound like a solid event.

They all discussed rituals and traditions they’d seen at various weddings, and things they thought sounded ridiculous or sublime. And later, after the guests had left, and Jim had him under the mistletoe, Jim kissed him and said, "So, about that ‘obey’ clause…"

That brought on a guffaw from Blair. "In your dreams, Bud. When have I ever done what you said?"

"You won’t even stay in the truck." Jim laughed too. "Besides, I was joking. I don’t ever want you to stop challenging me. I just want you to stay safe."

"I love you, too, Jim," Blair said, knowing what Jim really meant, and followed him up the stairs to their bedroom.  



End file.
